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i did what he said
everything
he told me
everything
would be different
one day

I gave away
the innocence
of my soul
as if it were
a rotten grape

I gave away
the part of me that
made a marvel
of butterflies
and bees
the part of me that
listened to the
sighing of the
trees

I gave it all away
like a child weeping
for the first time
in love.

tonight I have
sat and thought
about the day

seeing the people,
smiling and at times
hurrying; youth goes

and now I sit in my bed
half the night is gone
even the moon will
not last.

dawn
in the land of
the orange groves

tiny golden bees
are out upon
the prowl

in the yellow flower
joshua

in the blue flower
james

a small golden
chair for the sun

a chair made out
of the dreams of
children

a chair for the
conductor of my
happiness, the
disperser of my
heartache

dawn
in the land of
the orange groves

time has no limits
clocks have deceived us
only life has limits
time has no horizons

 

a beauty so pure
it could not endure

on earth

the girl of beautiful lips
like the slight curve
of the skin of strawberries
goes around and grasps
the firm peaches from the
trees and puts them in a basket
dangling over her elbow
I watch her for a while
she is the reaper of the earth
and the gentle air swirls around
her waist and an invisible force
seems to animate her breaths
with the slightest of moans.

when i went to the
guru and told him
my pains

he said we are all but
blossoms carried by
the wind

what
how and
the inevitable
why

the ancient fiction writer
known as homer said upon
his contemporaries critique that

'nothing you said is true'
'all of this is false'
'none of this really happened'

said, it may not be
how or what happened
but it tells the truth
which is enough

apassingphase:

San Francisco poster all around. I feel like a raindrop.

Poetry

apassingphase:

San Francisco poster all around. I feel like a raindrop.

Poetry

life

the only thing in
the universe that
does not go on

The man next to me has the most
beautiful hands, hands like my own
but more refined, more in size,
everything of my hands but more.
They look like the hands of
Michelangelo’s David vaguely holding
the sling that he had used to slay the
giant monster threatening civilization,
a hand that could hold a heart in its
palm and not let it fall out as it beats,
a hand that could carry great burdens
and save you from falling. I see
his hands as they rest on his knees and
then on his arms and then on his neck.
These are hands I could fall in love
with, that I would never tire of seeing
or ever tire of holding.

happymonk:

when I close my eyes I dream of impossible infinities.

the boy so little
that he barely can
control the modern
english tongue said
to me overlooking
the city of los angeles
with all the city lights
twinkling on and off

why does my world
have to be so horrible

happymonk turned 4 years old on tumblr today

happymonk turned 4 years old on tumblr today